Iron Blade
by TheGrammarHawk
Summary: Writing prompt from Comet. The Company is attacked by Wargs, and, later, Orcs. Will they all make it out alive, or not? Knowing me... it could be either. A little bloody. Rated T for blood. One-Shot. Oh yeah, don't kill me. Warning: Character Death(s).


Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit.

**AN: Yet another prompt from Comet. Blame her, it's all her fault. She said that I couldn't do humor and the word she gave me was 'iron'. So, this is what happens. I do take prompts from people, btw, if you ever feel I need a little one-shot challenge. Be wary if you forbid me from humor though.**

...

It was not right. It couldn't be right. This wasn't possible. In Durin's name, it couldn't be!

The Company had awoken to harsh howls. Wargs. These Wargs weren't being ridden by Orcs; however, they were a wild pack. Which meant they had one goal: kill.

Everyone was up in a flash. Gandalf was off who-knows-where, not being much of a help at the present time. Bilbo still wasn't quite used to fighting with his small 'sword', Sting, and was being guarded by Bifur and Oin.

It was when the sun was rising that the Wargs had attacked. Only Bombur had been on watch, and he had fallen asleep. He had paid dearly for his mistake – a Warg had bitten viciously into his arm.

Thorin fought with his nephews, Fili and Kili. Though they were young, they fought well. The Wargs were not tamed, and did not stand a chance.

That's when it got infinitely worse. A small group of three Warg-riding Orcs appeared. They went unnoticed, and that's when they got the advantage.

They would ride in, seemingly just normally, swinging what looked like heavy metal clubs and bashing the Dwarves with them. The clubs, it seemed, were made of dense iron. An odd choice for Orcs.

As Dwarves were clubbed, knocking the wind out of them and sending them flying, Bilbo watched in terror as the leader, an Orc carrying both an iron club _and_ a sharp, thin, long shaft of iron slashed Thorin in the gut with it. The shaft was pointed at the end, and could've caused a mortal wound.

In a flash Kili and Fili defended their uncle. They were relieved to find that, no, he was not slain. But their moment's hesitation of relief was all the Orc needed.

The Dwarves won the battle. Gandalf had not yet returned, and yet all fifteen Wargs and the three Orcs were dead, their bodies littering the ground.

The Company cheered, not knowing half of what happened – many of them had been hit so hard with the club that they had lost enough air to pass out. Not fun.

Bilbo, in horror, ran to Thorin – who was okay. Besides the little gash from the blade, which wasn't deep, he wasn't injured. He would be fine. But he had a hollow look in his eyes, his face was blank. Bilbo followed his dark gaze.

It was enough to make Bilbo sick. Fili's face was distorted, and he wasn't breathing. He, going over quickly, turned him over and saw why.

The back of his skull had been crushed in by the iron club. It was such a severe injury to the skull and brain, Bilbo knew that, even if he lived for a day, he would die. And he wouldn't even have that long. The nerves sent from his brain were scrambled. He wasn't breathing. He was…

Dead.

And next to him was an even bloodier sight.

Thorin may have been the first to have been stabbed with the iron shaft, but not the last.

There was blood everywhere, flowing from puncture marks on his breast, stomach, and even right cheek. Kili's blood leaked onto the ground, soaking the soft grass red, dampening and matting his hair and Fili's. He was breathing, but it was raspy, and very harsh. Bilbo heard movement.

Thorin had scrambled over, and he grabbed Kili's hand tightly in his own. Kili's eyes were wide and horrified. Thorin had gone pale. "No, stop, you know you can't die, not on this quest, you can't die on me. You can't die with your brother, you have to keep going."

Very faintly, he heard "But… I do everything with Fili…" his eyes flickered just once to his uncle, before he whispered, "Death will not part us. I stay with Fili… even now."

With one last breath, the youngest of the line of Durin faded.

Thorin stood, shakily, walking away. Bilbo went to him. "Thorin? It'll… be fine… We… knew the risks."

"No!" Thorin said back harshly, plunging his sword into the ground. "I have lost both of my nephews! They were young; they didn't belong on this quest! I am the last of Durin now!"

"Like the Halfling said," Dwalin said quietly, "the lads knew the risks of this quest. I think that they both knew something like this would happen. They belonged here, protecting _you._ And they did a _fine_ job of that."

Thorin whirled, and said "And if I die? Who then, will become King?" Balin nodded. "We'll get to that if we get to that. But we're not done here yet, Thorin. They were good lads, but we have no time. If there were Orcs around here, there will be more. We must make haste."

"It's not over yet," Bilbo said gently, standing next to Thorin.

"Not yet," he growled, "because mark my words, _Smaug will be destroyed for this!_"

"Then let's go destroy him," Bilbo said, turning the dwarf away. Reluctantly, the Company left the field, leaving two dwarves among the carcasses of evil ones.


End file.
